Under the mask
by J.A.Kishu
Summary: Watching your parents die is bad but watching them being tortured and killed by enemies of the country is worse. After their death young Sherlock and Mycroft enter a life their parents never really wanted them to choose. On different way try two brothers to revenge their parent's death.
1. Family

**Under the mask**

 **Chapter 1: Family**

Mycroft is gone for the night. It doesn't happen often that the two brothers are separated but at five years Sherlock already knows how to enjoy his parents without his big brother. Currently he is reading a book about invention in the nineteenth century. His father had brought him the book as a present when he came back from a business trip. Sherlock doesn't need presents, he was just happy when his parents came back.

Speaking of his parents, they have another heated conversation, the third, this time about Mycroft and Uncle Rudy´s plan to let him start BEC, whatever that is. Most time these conversations are about politics and government stuff Sherlock isn't interested in and he ignores it. But if anyone thinks his parents fight all day they are wrong. The conversations never get loud; they are heated, filled with emotions and passion. Sherlock actually likes the way his parents discuss everything, starting with Mycroft´s and Sherlock´s education, over parenting styles and of course their work. It never ends in a fight. They talk until the topic is done, a problem is solved and the solution satisfies everyone. And if it take two days of arguments, it takes that long and no one to bed before they are finished.

Most times Sherlock just ignores it and listens to the waves of emotion filling the room. He loves his family and wouldn't want to change a thing in his life. But what he hears in the conversation about Mycroft indicates a few changes for the future. Not that it is a bad thing. Mycroft tells him that he wants to visit a special school that would provide him with the knowledge he is searching for but for that he needs to go to another city. He hopes that their parents will allow it and it sounds like that is the topic currently. Mycroft´s future and his leaving to live somewhere else.

"Sherlock, darling?" Caught in his thoughts, Sherlock surfaces and looks at his mother. "It´s time for bed, get ready:" It is pretty late but Sherlock isn't a typical child with a fixed bed-time. If necessary he is allowed to stay up longer.

"Okay, Mummy." He stands up to get ready for a bathroom visit and to change clothes. "Mummy, can I sleepover at Uncle Rudy´s too, it's best with Mycroft is there?"

She smiles at her son. "Yes of course, we can ask Uncle Rudy tomorrow when he and Mycroft come back. Can I have a kiss before you go upstairs?"

Sherlock giggles, he loves the coddling that his mother does and he is sure that he will still like it at the age of twelve; Mycroft told him in secret that he loves it too but at his age you should start to act like you don't like it or Mummy will do it for the rest of your life. Not that he was against that idea. "Yes Mummy."

He walks over to her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Can I have a hug too?" Sherlock hugs her. He loves hugging his Mother and there is nothing better. "And I think I need a serious cuddle." She winks at him and pulls her son in a good long cuddle. Both laugh and hold on to each other without minding their surroundings, including time.

Mr. Holmes watches them and feels pure love for this picture of his family. They had another discussion about Mycroft´s early decision to follow their footsteps. Not that it was an unusual wish for his son. He told his parents that he would follow them since he was old enough to understand what they were doing.

Thinking about his sons, who are both geniuses, he is proud and sad at the same time. They will achieve amazing things in their lives but watching his children grow up without any real interest at being children is a bit sad and he hopes that they won´t miss it at a later time of their live.

Right now both he and his wife have decided that their children, at least Mycroft, can make decisions on their own; That is the reason the conversation they had about him entering BEC had ended. They will have a talk with their son and if he wants to go for the right reasons, who are they to stop their sons from following their plans and dreams.

* * *

The family ideal is suddenly interrupted by the harsh opening of the door. In less than a second the room is filled with armed and masked gun men. Mr. Holmes jumps up from his seat and Mrs. Holmes holds Sherlock very close, pressed at her chest, covering his eyes and ears to protect him from whatever will follow.

"Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes I think we will continue our conversation. I hope you remember where we had stopped." An unmasked man steps in the room, half his face covered in ugly burn scars and known by the Holmes. Right now the only thing that matters is to save their son because they were already dead. Confirming this with a look in each other's eyes they get ready for everything.

"Yes Mr. Moriarty we remember you and that we saw you die in the fire, but dying isn't your style right?" Mr. Holmes tries to get Moriarty's whole attention; there is no way to get Sherlock out without them noticing but at least he can distract them from his wife and son.

But as always Moriarty reads his intentions, walks over to his wife and stops just out of her reach. "You can give me your son, we can have a little chat, you two will probably be dead in the end but your son, I will let him go when we are finished." Disbelief was all his wife´s eyes screamed but she can't open her mouth to say anything; four of the seven guns are pointing at her and Sherlock. "You can also wait until I have my fun with your child and then I promise you he is the first thing that will die tonight. Decide, NOW." The last word is shouted and Sherlock flinches in his mother's arms. He doesn't understand what is happening but the fear from his mother, he can feel it deep in his bones. "Let go of him and I will only play with you two, or keep him then is he the first."

There isn't really a decision to make. Slowly and without letting Moriarty out of her sight she pulls Sherlock away from her chest. "Sweetheart do you remember what I told you about 'danger nights'?" Sherlock nods. "This is one. I want you to go over to this man and close your eyes and ears. Your father and I we love you, and nothing will happen to you. But close your eyes and ears, okay." With a last kiss on his forehead Moriarty takes Sherlock away from her.

"The real fun begins now."


	2. Revenge

**Chapter 2: Revenge**

His parents had prepared him for 'danger nights' but he is only a child and as the bad man takes him away from his mother he starts to cry. He can hear his mother shush him but he wants the bad man gone and to be back in his mother´s arms.

"Child." The voice of the bad man is close to his ears and Sherlock looks up. "If you not stop crying this second I have to break my word. I told your mother that I wouldn't touch you, so stop crying, it´s annoying." Sherlock freezes, the cold eyes pierce into his soul and all shouting and crying, every bit of fight is gone. He can't move and he will watch his parents die like the man told them. "Good. Now be a good by and stay here."

Moriarty sits down with the child; they had moved to the hall and he finds the stairs very comfortable. His men position the Holmes´ in front of him. These two agents of the British government had brought him so much pain and loss (financially) that it wouldn't be fair to let them get off easy.

The best thing is the crying child. They would not move or try anything with his little hostage. He also could hurt them on a whole new level. Let a child watch the torture and death of his parents and damage it for his whole life.

"How nice that you follow me voluntarily, I like it when everything works out fine. So your child will now witness your death." He stops there, dramatic break to enjoy his enemies desperate faces. "How painful it will be is your choice." He likes to hurt them before the physical pain even starts." Let´s see: the first one who talks will get a bullet into his or her head and I was told that is a painless way of dying. The other will endure a bit of pain, who knows what else you two are hiding." He smiles because they won't choose the easy way. These agents, and every one that has the same … let's call it education, would not open their mouths, there is no way they will give up. He isn't even sure he wants them to break. The more pain the more fun he gets.

"Second option I will start with … Mrs. Holmes and then go over to Mr. Holmes, what a nice idea and if no one talks I will get the information from someone else, at least I had a bit fun with you." Moriarty places Sherlock on his lap and holds his hand. "Child, I know you have a brother, if you close your eyes I will continue with him." He holds the child´s hands in place and Sherlock looks to his parents.

"It´s alright Sherlock just do what the man tells you to do. Whatever happens don't fight. We lov…" Mrs. Holmes is interrupted by the shot from a gun and falls to the floor. You have to say that she didn't scream in pain. Moriarty had pulled the trigger and aimed at her knee.

"You are talking far too much about the wrong things. Better tell me what I wanted to know the day you thought that fire would burn me." Moriarty plays with the loaded gun far too close to Sherlock for his parents liking. But what could they do? He was safest with the monster that would kill them.

Sherlock cries silent tears. He knows what will follow. His parents explained it a thousand times that they had very dangerous jobs and if a situation like this were to happen they would die while protecting their secrets. Because the secrets would fall in the wrong hands; this world would no longer be safe to live in. They also told him that they love him and that Sherlock must never tell anything to the bad guys. He had to be strong and never fear death. There are worse things that can happen to you than death. So Sherlock does what his parents told him to do, listen to the man that will kill them in front of him and be quiet.

Both Holmes´ stay silent, even the child doesn't make a sound. "Good, how about these beautiful blue eyes you have in your skull, I don't think you will need them anymore." Without another warning one of Moriarty´s men steps forward, lifts her up and peels one eye after the other out of the woman´s skull; now she cries and screams but the man doesn't stop. The woman isn't talking and neither is her husband. Moriarty can see the pain in his eyes and as they finish this step. Mrs. Holmes falls back to the floor and stays there shaking in pain and bleeding on the carpet.

"That wasn't very helpful. Oh, I know, would someone be a sweetheart and pull out a few of her fingernails, I heard that is a very sensitive spot, many nerves and so on." Moriarty speaks as if he were bored, could be the case. His man walks to the woman on the floor and starts with the left hand. He isn't watching the woman, he is focusing on Mr. Holmes. It is no use waiting for an answer from her, she will be so far gone in a few minutes that she won't remember her name or sensitive information from the British government.

A small smile appears on his face as he sees the tears in Mr. Holmes' eyes., The best thing is that he can continue with his game until both are dead. It won't get him anything, except a bit of fun. He feels the child on his lap shake; it is amazing how much self-control he has but it isn't important. He is a man of his word so the child will live, a far better way to ensure permanent damage to the child´s soul.

"That´s enough David, be a good boy and let the lady alone. I think I will go back to her later." Looking at the unconscious figure on the floor he has a better idea. "No wait, better idea. Get me her heart." Both Mr. Holmes and the child freeze in fear. Yes, they knew what would come but seeing it is a whole new thing.

David opens Mrs. Holmes chest with a huge knife; blood is everywhere but the man doesn't mind. That is the best thing, Moriarty had picked his man especially for missions like this, brutal and merciless. "David stay there for a second." He lifts the child down from his lap. "Child you will go over to David, the nice man with the heart from your mother in his hand. You will bring it to your father and then come back to me. Understand?" The child looks up at him in fear; he loves that look. The child nods and turns, walks to the corpse of his mother and takes the offered heart. The blood is dripping down his fingers and soaks his clothes. The boy walks to his father on shaky legs and would prefer to stay with him. But even the father understands what he has to do.

Mr. Holmes takes the heart out of his son´s hands and tells him, with his tear filled eyes, to go back to the man that killed his mother a minute ago. "And the people say I would never give them anything. I gave you the heart of your wife, isn't that nice of me?" Moriarty tells him in a mocking voice. With one of his fingers he scratches his chin and follows the deep lines of scar covering it.

"Now Mr. Holmes, I think we were very productive tonight, what do you say? Is there anything you would like to share with the class? I think your son here learnt a lot. Guess we can continue our little lesson." Winking at Mr. Holmes, who is mute from anger, grief and helplessness. He has to watch the man take Sherlock´s hand and walk over to them. His wife´s body lay there, only a few meters from him, mutilated, and Sherlock´s eyes tell him that his son will never find peace with this day. Every good thing that happened until today will be erased and it will poison every good memory he ever had.

"I have nothing to say to you Moriarty. You are what is wrong with the world. People like you must be destroyed and I will never help you or your kind darken our world." Proud, he lifts his head and stares into the monster´s eyes from his position on the floor.

"Fine. We had a nice chat. I would say let's do it again but THERE WILL BE NO NEXT TIME." The last part is shouted into Holmes´ face and with the mad look in his eyes he lets go of Sherlock´s hand. The boy stays and looks at his father. Moriarty walks around the kneeling man, takes a knife and slices his throat. The blood shoots out of the man's neck right on Sherlock; the boy doesn't flinch, he is completely in shock.

"Good boys, get ready, we are finished here." Moriarty lets the lifeless body of his enemy fall to the floor, ignoring the mess he left behind and the shattered child. They close the door to the house behind them. This mission is complete. He had a bit of fun, at least tried to get something out of them and will now continue with the next agent on his list.

* * *

Mycroft is excited to tell his parents and his little brother about his day with Uncle Rudy. He can't wait to tell them all about BEC; they got a guided tour and everything. The principal was very interested in Mycroft joining the school.

"Do you think they will let me go? Mummy and father weren't really happy about it." Mycroft asks his uncle.

"I think when you talk to them and tell them your plans and dreams they will listen. They know you are far too smart for your own good and that BEC will give you the opportunity to use it to your advantage." Uncle Rudy smiles at his nephew. He is proud of the boy, not only because of his intelligence but also for his ambition to achieve great things in his life.

He parks in front of the door and stops Mycroft with his arm. Something is wrong. "Wait a second." Mycroft stays in his seat. Rutherford Holmes gets out of his car, closes the door and locks it. Mycroft will be safe inside. With a drawn gun he walks over to the house. In huge bloody letters is an 'M' painted on the door. The smell tells him that it is blood but it is dry. The door isn't locked and he enters the slaughter house.

The light from the day shines inside and gives the whole scenario a gruesome look. There on the floor sits his five year old nephew covered in blood, between the bodies of his parents. He must have sat there for hours. Rudy puts the gun away and walks over to Sherlock. The child doesn't look at him. Frozen in shock. "Sherlock, it´s me, Uncle Rudy, I will bring you outside now. Mycroft is waiting for you." He covers the child with his jacket and lifts him up from the sea of blood.

Outside he sees Mycroft´s worried face. He opens the door of the car and the older brother jumps out and runs to them. "Mycroft, you can´t go inside. Hold your brother, that is the most impotent thing right now. Let him feel like he is safe and loved and don't let go of him." Mycroft, only a child himself, nods and tightens his grip on Sherlock. His little brother has said nothing and wouldn't do so for a while.

Rutherford gets his phone out; he doesn't need to call anyone, only write a code word to a special number, then an investigation and cleaning unit would be here in no time. He stays with his two nephews, now parentless. He was the next in kin, they will come with him.

As the ambulance arrives he takes the two boys to the paramedic, one is checking Sherlock for injures but the child doesn't even have a scratch. Mycroft understands what happened and waits; he doesn't cry and doesn't run into the house to his dead parents. He stays outside with his brother.

* * *

Sherlock wakes out of his static as they arrive at Rudy´s house. He takes his brother's hand and both follow the man inside. "I think you two may want to sleep in the same room for a while. "Mycroft nods, Sherlock just stares at him." I know this is a bit much right now but we will find a way. I promise."

It's already late as the two children arrive at their new home. After a good wash for Sherlock they dress in their pajamas and Mycroft takes Sherlock to sleep in his bed. He doesn't want to be alone and he thinks Sherlock feels the same, even when he can´t voice his wishes right know.

They have lost their parents and after what Uncle Rudy has told him, Sherlock is a witness to everything. They will do everything to find the man that killed his parents but it wouldn't get them back.

* * *

The next morning is strange; Rutherford has a few days off to get everything sorted after the death of his brother and sister-in-law, with the two children who will live with him now and everything else. It was planned that Mycroft would start at BEC to the beginning of the next year, only a few weeks from now but he isn't sure that is the right thing now. He knows why he never married or had children; in their line of work it is too dangerous.

Mycroft and Sherlock enter the dining room for breakfast and it doesn't look like either of the brothers sleep much. What surprises him the most is Sherlock. The childlike, trusting look has disappeared from his eyes. They are filled with hated, anger and all encompassing hunger for revenge. He has seen eyes like that before and he knows that nothing would change that look on the child, not even if he gets revenge. Challenged with a new task he wants to at least try to talk to them, but Sherlock cuts him off before he has a chance to say anything.

"You will let me go to BEC too. But not the division where Mycroft is going, I want the active one." He hadn't even thought that Sherlock knew about that.

"Sherlock I know tha-" Sherlock interrupts him again.

"No you don't, I will start there at the same time Mycroft starts with his thing. In a few weeks. I will not let you talk me out of this." Sherlock turns around without even sitting at the table or touching his breakfast.

Mycroft starts to speak as Sherlock alks out of the room. "Four weeks, then we will go to BEC." With that he sits down and starts to eat, saving some of it to bring up to their room for Sherlock.

Rutherford is horrified about what could happen and knows no way out of this. These children will get the tools to avenge their parent's death and prevent incidences like this from happening again with their education at BEC, but they are children and they will lose the privilege of being children by entering the school. For Mycroft, okay he wants that, but Sherlock is only five, he knows nothing about the real life and will start a life in the shadows. He sighs and tries to think of a way out, he has four weeks left.


	3. The first time

**Chapter 3: First Time**

 _Ten years later_

"How is he?" Rutherford Holmes asks his nephew. Mycroft looks up from his paper work. His uncle rarely visits because of the guilt he feels every time he looks at him or Sherlock.

"What do you think? He is the same. The same for ten years, nothing has changed, why should it today?" Mycroft doesn't intend to chase away his family but he is rather busy at the moment and has no time to discuss the unchanging emotional state of his baby brother.

"I heard that he had his first mission yesterday." Mycroft who had returned to his work looked up again. His uncle has aged more than he should but they work in the same business, he knows he doesn't look like he is in his early twenties ether.

"He did well. Target was eliminated without any problems." He doesn't want to go into details, not only for his uncle´s sake but also for his own. The background of the mission is sickening.

"Who was it?"

"Uncle, you don't want to know, believe me." Uncle Rudy stands up from the seat he had taken and throws a newspaper on Mycroft's desk.

"You let him take down Magnussen? That sick, prevent monster. He is fifteen!" The last part is screamed into his face and makes Mycroft angry, more than angry.

"I know how old he is and this is the reason why it was the perfect mission for him. he looks like he is twelve; that bastard likes them more the younger and more innocent they are. And before you say it I tried to stop him." Mycroft is breathing heavily, thinking about everything that could have happened. His baby brother could have been raped or worse.

"Did you talk to him?" Uncle Rudy sounds a bit less distressed and Mycroft nods. "Did he say anything, anything at all?"

"No. He said he is fine after I asked him how he was feeling after his first job, his first kill. Yes he is fine. But only because he hasn't felt a single emotion since the day our parents died. I'm not sure he really knows why he is doing it." He sighs. He still has the picture of the small child in his head who laughed and liked to read and he misses him.

"Sorry, I know you try your best. He is now an official member, right." Mycroft nods. "Then there is nothing that can change it." Uncle Rudy looks out of the window, Mycroft follows his look. It is early morning, the sun is rising and a new day starts with one less monster and a newly born one. Because both men don't have any illusions about Sherlock's future, he will become the best in what he does and it is all the same. Sherlock will become a monster to kill other monsters. The difference is that he still follows the rules.

* * *

Sherlock looks at the file in front of him. Finally he can start working after ten years of training on fighting, learning and surviving. He can use his skills to erase all evil from this world. He doesn't care what he has become or will become. Everytime he meets his brother or his Uncle Rudy he sees their fear of the monster, himself, in their eyes. It changes nothing.

With a last look at his target he gets ready. He knows he looks younger than he is. At fifteen years he is legally still the responsibility of his guardian. But when Uncle Rudy let him joint the BEC, he gave his rights to Sherlock's life away."

His target was a man with the name Charles Augustus Magnussen, owner of the Londoner newspapers and keeper of far too many 'pressure points' as he calls them. This time he has gone too far and the government has decided to get rid of him. Fortunately, Mr. Pressure Point has his own dirty little secret. He likes boys, young boys, the younger the better.

Sherlock is dressed in the sixth grade uniform from some private primary school in London. He will use it as a cover, his cover to get his target's interest. He should be sad that he never got the chance to wear his own uniform for school. He never went to a normal school.

He knows Magnussen's route out of the city and he will play the runaway that wants to go out of town to visit his friend. The imaginary parents are against the friendship, a perfect story to get to him.

The picture of his target in the company of young boys is at the back of the file. He hasn't looked too closely at them. He doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to be touched but if it is necessary for his mission he will endure it. Like he would endure anything that brings him what he needs. What it means right now is access to Appledore, Magnussen's home".

* * *

Sherlock walks down the road that leads out of the city. Due to the late hour there aren't many cars and he will wait until he gets the sign from his team. The two cars in front of Magnussen's limousine will be his colleagues who will ignore his hitchhiker sign. The one after will be Magnussen who should stop. The sign comes and Sherlock throws his communication device away to keep his cover. His arm lifts and his thump goes up.

The first car passes Sherlock without slowing down. The second car slows while Sherlock is under a street light; Magnusson's car is right behind them and the driver is forced to slow down. As the second car passes Sherlock he takes a deep breath and puts the mask of his cover on.

Magnusson's car stops a few meters in front of him. Sherlock lets a smile appear on his face and runs to the open window.

* * *

Magnussen had enough of London for one day, the weekend will be pure bless. He will open one of the older bottles in his collection. … His thoughts are interrupted by the driver using the brakes. The car in front of them had slowed down. "Why are we slowing down?" He doesn't need to rise his voice; his driver and every employee is more than afraid of him and what he could do. No one would hesitate to follow his orders or answer a question.

I'm sorry sir. It appears that there is a hitchhiker." As they come closer the driver gets a better look. "Sir, I think it's a child."

That is enough to get his attention. More than the old bottle, he would like some company. "Stop the car. We can't leave the child on the road, can we?"

As they stop and he opens the window the boy comes running to them. "Hi, thanks for stopping, you leaving the city right? Could you take me a bit?"

The boy looks around twelve or thirteen, not much older. He wears a school uniform he recognizes from a few of his business partners, a boy from a good family. That would be something. "Hop in." He opens the door and the boy slides in onto the seat next to him. "You can call me Charles. What is your name and why are you out here in the middle of the night?

* * *

"My name is William but you can call me Billy, I don't like my name." The car starts and the sweet boy puts his seat belt on as if it is normal to get picked up by a stranger. Magnussen licks his lips.

"Where are you heading in your school uniform?" He checks the boy from head to toe, perfect.

"I'm on the way to my best friend. My parents don't like him and have forbidden me to visit him. So I told them I have a sleepover at a classmate's house." Billy looks proud of his plan.

"This has to be a very special friend." Magnussen loves the rebellious eyes and the will inside them. A strong boy, he will love to break that spirt.

"I love him, he is my best friend since I can remember and nothing will stop me from seeing him. His father got a new job after he had none for years but the whole family had to move." Now he looks sad. A hand on his head that pets his wild curls lets him look up into dead eyes and a fake smile that should say 'I want only the best for you' and Billy smiles back.

"You are right; no one should be allowed to keep you away from your friend." He pulls the boy a bit closer in a half hug, surprised at how easy the boy follows. Maybe he doesn't get much physical affection at home.

"Charles, do you have water or something like that, I'm really thirsty but mine is gone already. I didn't plan well enough." Magnussen reaches for a box in the corner and gets a specific bottle of water, with something special inside.

"Here you go, I don't have juice but water is the best when thirsty." Smiling and happy about it, Billy takes the bottle.

"Thank you Charles." Half of the bottle is empty before they set back in their seats. Magnussen listens to the chatting boy who tells him stories about his friend and how unfair it is that his parents could tell him what to do and slowly the boys eyes start to fall, the babbling stops and from one second to the next Billy sinks unconscious onto Magnussen shoulder.

The boy is sleeping and he puts his head into Magnussum's lap. "Soon you will be mine." He strokes through the black hair. "Driver, hurry up I have something important to do." The driver steps on the accelerator as they leave the city behind. He feels sorry for the boy but he can't say anything against having the boy. He knows who would take the child's place, his own son.

* * *

Sherlock tastes the drug right away but he keeps drinking. He has built up a resistance against most drugs and this one will only make him tired and heavy headed for an hour. After telling his target a few selected stories that were built upon truth, he pretends to get tired and fall asleep. He lets himself relax and as Magnussen pulls his body into his lap Sherlock lets him.

He concentrates on two things, relaxing his body and clearing his mind. The next step will be the hard one.

As the car stops the door opens and the driver lifts Sherlock out of Magnussen arms. "Prepare him like the others and bring him into my room."

Sherlock lets himself be carried away. Someone takes his clothes away and places him on something soft, a bed or a sofa. Magnussen enters and a light smell of wine meets Sherlock's nose. He pretends to sleep for another ten minutes before he feigns waking up. He was a good actor, the best according to his teacher at BEC.

* * *

The child starts to wake up after Magnussen finishes his first glass of wine, a delicious Merlot, one of his favorites. His driver has taken the child's clothes and beautiful as he was born Billy lays on his sofa. His soft childlike skin is touching the very spot he will sit later on.

Billy's eyes open and the still glassy eyes look confusedly around the room until they find him. "... Charles? ... Where are we?" As Billy touches his head, probably getting a headache from the sleeping drug, the boy notices his nudity, he covers himself as good as he can while blushing and looking for his clothes. "What happened to my clothes and where am I. I want to leave." Magnussen enjoys the growing fear and sees with pleasure the moment Billy realizes he is in real danger.

Until this point, his runaway thing, the search for his friend, the hitchhiking it was more of a game, an adventure. But now Billy find himself back in the real world and Magnussen smells the fear, his mouth is watering. He will enjoy this boy more than the other, maybe he will keep him.

As the first tear starts to grow in the boy's eyes, Magnussen feels himself get incrediblely hard. That is enough. He will stop the foreplay; he thinks he wants the boy now.

Magnussen presses the number one on his phone while the boy watches him frozen in place. "Take the night off, leave and come back in the morning." He orders his man. They know what happens and wouldn't interrupt even if the house was burning down. "Now we have the house to ourselves. What do you think Billy, I have a few ideas to make your evening very ... special."

Billy sinks into the cushions and tries to make himself smaller.

Magnussen stands up and walks around the table to sit next to the frightened boy. "We can help each other, you want to meet your friend, right?" Billy nods and pulls his legs closer to his body. "I could get him for you and you two could stay with me. No parents to stop you from meeting and we could have a bit fun together." As he mentioned his friend the boy's eyes lit up but now he starts to cry and shake his head. He understands his situation and doesn't want his friend to get hurt too.

"Fine then we will have a bit fun." Billy sees the bulk in his trousers and swallows. A reaction that doesn't go unnoticed by Magnussen. "I will make it good for you too. It will only hurt at the beginning but when I'm finished with you, you will feel good."

He pulls Billy closer. The boy tries to fight but due to the drug and the realization that there is no way out his fight is weak. "Let's start with a kiss. Have you ever kissed someone, maybe your best friend? Just to see how it feels." Magnussen licks over Billy's closed mouth. "Let's try it." He starts to kiss the boy; he loves to play with them.

* * *

Sherlock lets himself be kissed. He stays in character; he is waiting for the perfect moment. He can't fail, he has only one try. If he fails, Magnussen will call his security and probably kill him after he plays a bit with him.

Sherlock takes a breath and opens his mouth a bit as he starts to kiss back, the smile that grows on his targets face doesn't stay hidden.

Another minute and Magnussen breaks the kiss. "Are your curious? You like kissing me, right? Or are you thinking of your friend?" He pulls Sherlock into a hug and lifts him up. He is carried bridal style to a bed in the back of the room, he had noticed it as he had looked around in the room.

Sherlock is let down with the greatest care. Magnussen strokes Sherlock's hair. "You are a mine, beauty. I will get out of these clothes so you don't have to feel naked anymore." Magnussen turns his back to Sherlock and starts pulling down his trousers. The second he steps out of them Sherlock finds his chance.

Without a weapon he has to use his hands, not his favorite method but he can't change it. He jumps up and puts his arms around his target's head in a secure grip. With a trained move he pulls his arms in different directions and first stops when he hears the noise of a broken neck. All this doesn't take more than two seconds. He lets go of the man and the dead body falls to the floor. Sherlock looks down on his work. A second longer and his target would have had the time to call for help.

With his hand he wipes away the prints of the kiss. He sits on the bed for a whole minute before he gets up, takes the phone from the sofa and calls his team.

After that Sherlock walks through the house, all guards are gone and he easily deactivates the security system. He also finds his clothes but puts on only his shoes, shirt and trousers.

The cleaning team is on its way in as he leaves the building. They will recover any evidence and burn down the house. A car is waiting for him; he gets in and lets himself be taken away. With half closed eyes he leaves his cover, the school boy disappears, is put it in a box and stored in his mind palace.

All the stuff he wants to forget like Magnussen's hand on his head and the kiss is sealed away behind his wall. First is done, many will follow, one less monster in the world.

* * *

Mycroft sits at his desk; he should work but he can't concentrate. When he thinks about his brother who is now a member of the hitman section he could get sick. Watching his training all these years was bad but this is far worse.

Sherlock´s file lays in front of him; Mycroft was a co-coordinator and had to know about every active mission. His file is long, with abilities and knowledge. The list of languages alone that Sherlock speaks fluently is five times longer than any other agent. Sherlock is an expert in security systems, hacking and chemistries. Honestly Mycroft is afraid about the bombs he could build. He can also drive most vehicles and is well trained in every form of fighting, with and without weapons.

His baby brother was made to be the perfect killing machine in BEC. Thinking about the name BEC, no one ever speaks the real name Baskerville Education Center, probably so no one will ever find the facility where the British government trains children to become killers and do their dirty work.

Mycroft sighs and returns to his files; he had to become the leader so he could at least channel the less cruel missions to Sherlock. That was all he could do.


	4. Black and White or Gray

**Chapter 4: Black and White or Gray**

Sherlock looks down at the picture of his next target. He is outside on top of a building, a hotel. The night swallows him and lets Sherlock be invisible with his black cloak and the mask that hides his eyes from everyone who would try to look at him.

The picture is still in his hand, the target is in the hotel room under the roof, a government official with his family. With a last look on the smiling face Sherlock destroys the picture and lets the little pieces be taken away by the wind.

His gear in place he climbs down on the balcony of the hotel room. He can work on the lock without fear of discovery. Behind him is the Thames, no other buildings on this side, first on the other side of the river. The lock makes a small noise that tells Sherlock that the real mission starts now.

Sherlock has cut the power to this room, they are all sleeping, and no one will notice that the power is off. The parent's room is to the left, the child's room to the right. From under his cloak Sherlock takes out a knife, only a small one, it is enough for the job, and walks to the right.

The door is half open and without interfering, the assassin stands right before his target, a ten year old boy. Hesitation is nothing Sherlock knows so he slices through the boy's neck like slicing butter with a warm knife. Sharp and fast; the mission is complete. Like always.

As Sherlock looks down at his work, for the first time he has doubt that his work is helping. What could the murder of an innocent child do to make the world better? The child hadn't woken as Sherlock had intended, but what did he do to deserve to die? His main missions are the ones with targets that endangerthe security of Great Britain. A child was something new.

Suddenly Sherlock notices time is running again and that he has stayed too long at this place. He steps out of the room and looks right into a guard's eyes. Enough time had passed that the next checkup was occurring . Unfortunately this guard is skilled in fighting, at least more skilled then the usual security guard.

He reacts immediately and attacks Sherlocktries to push him to the ground but the hitman is prepared for a move like this. The guard doesn't touch him and Sherlock runs to the door. On the balcony is his climbing gear, he can be up in five seconds and at the top, weighs plans A to D, climbing down would be plan E, not his favorite, but okay. He reaches the almost reaches door and suddenly feels a hit against his shoulder; there is a bit of pain but he is so used to pain that he needs time to realize that the pressure is a dangerous injury that hurts.

Sherlock crashes through the door, turns around while getting pushed forward, sees a gun that had recently been pointed at him and scrambles over the railing. He falls and sees the sky without stars up above him. If he is lucky he will die due to the impact with the ground.


	5. The doctor without a license

**Chapter 5: The doctor without a license**

John is tired, he really likes helping people and even without a license he can do it. He has patients, people who do not exist for the world. The homeless, the runaway, the cast out. These are his patients and he will always help them but late at night he is bones tired.

His patient today was Amir, a young teen that had run away from home after his father hit him once too often. His friend had alarmed John, everyone knows where to find him. Upstairs of Baker Street 221. Everyone knows the address not because of him, he is living there for the same reason this address is known. Mrs. Hudson. She was once the wife of a drug lord who disappeared, since then she is feeding the hungry, talking to the lonely, offering shelter or a shower and is protected by everyone. John is one of the lucky that has his own flat, due to his status as a doctor. He also pays her a small rent, but he does not have much and most of it is used for medical equipment.

John chooses the way back at the edge of the Thames, in hope of a bit peace and quiet. The teen had broken a leg, not pretty but much better than other things he has seen. He treats him as good as possible and offers him a stay in one of Mrs. Hudson's rooms. The boy doesn't want to leave but Amir's friend promised that he would try to talk to him again.

Walking and deep in his thoughts, worrying about many things his feet kick against something and John nearly falls over it. First John thinks he has found a body. A person covered in black lays in the mud, the flood must have brought it in. Carefully he turns the body; to his surprise the person is wearing a mask. John places two fingers in the body's neck to confirm the death but he suddenly feels a weak pulse. The smell of blood hits him and without hesitation John picks up the still living body and throws him over his shoulder. Finding his way home through the backstreets is easy for him; he is just sorry that he will have to wake Mrs. Hudson to open the backdoor for him. The body is heavy and the clothes are soaked with muddy water from the Thames. He knocks at Baker Street and after a few seconds the door is opened and the elderly lady hushes him inside.

The door closes behind them and John is already half way upstairs. "Mrs. H. I need warm water and a light; a few towels would be nice too." Normally no one orders her around; only during medical emergencies is John the one in charge, they are a good team like that. John lets the injured down on his kitchen table that was more often used for medical treatment than dinner. First he lifts the mask and finds under it a young man around 16 or maybe 17. He cuts the cloak open and the shirt follows soon after. John had been right when he had felt for a pulse and smelled blood. On the shoulder of the boy, and he really is not more than a boy, is a big hole, the exit wound from a bullet. Carefully John lifts the body to look at the entrance wound. It looks like the bullet went through without hitting a bone, a good sign. Mrs. Hudson arrives with the requested items. "That´s not little Amir, who did you bring in our home?"

John could only shake his head. He doesn't know who this is but he is only a child and is hurt.

While John treats the wound as good as possible to avoid a huge scar, Mrs. Hudson cuts off the remaining clothes and dries the shivering body. She can't find other injuries so she covers him with a blanket. "Who would shoot at the poor boy?" They had both seen enough suffering in this city and other places to fight against it and with every fed mouth and every treated illness they make life in this city better.

John uses his best skills and closes the wound, bandages both holes and gives the first shot of antibiotic. After the treatment he lifts the far too light boy up and places him in the bed Mrs. Hudson has prepared in the corner . He feels for fever by putting a hand on his patient's forehead and covers him with a blanket.

"He should be ok if the wound doesn't get infected, which is what most likely will happen after swimming in the Thames." John turns to Mrs. Hudson who had brought up a few clothes the boy can wear when he wakes up. His old clothes are ruined. "Thank you for your help Mrs. Hudson."

"Don't mention it, you are helping them."

"We are helping them. And you are helping me." Yes, she is his angel, a doctor without a license who only wants to be a doctor but isn't allowed to be one. She says her good night and gives him a kiss on the cheek. John tidies up the kitchen and cleans the blood from it.. Finally done he takes a shower and changes back into his pajamas. On his way back he checks on his patient again. The mask catches his eyes and he picks it up. He has seen something like this before. These masks are from japan, a fox. Why was he wearing this mask? He also finds a few weapons that Mrs. Hudson had collected before she had thrown his clothes out. A gun, three knifes, a lock pick set, a few needles and a box with little bottles in different colors. By looking at the other items his first thought is poison, but he doesn't try it out. The weapons and the other stuff except the mask are confiscated. Rules of the house. John places the mask in the pile of clothes and goes to bed.

* * *

In his office Mycroft Holmes is watching the death of his brother for the second time. His assistant had brought the video stream that shows the side of the skyscraper and how his brother was shot at and fell twenty floors before he hit the river surface. He sighs and sees the first signs of shock in himself. Thank god he is alone in his office. Mycroft had known that his brother would probably die an early death by the career he had chosen. But still he isn't ready yet to lose him. He starts the video a third time. He shouldn't survive it. But still there is hope. The police haven't found a body yet. But maybe it is for the best; his brother would never be able to live a normal life without all the killing, the blood and the memories of the day that shattered his soul.


	6. New morning

**Chapter 6: New morning**

He is falling and he hits something hard, it hurts a while, the air is gone and breathing gets heavy. Dying. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? He is a monster, he had let people create a killing machine, he had allowed it for a purpose to make the bad people go away. The thought of his childhood came back. The bad people that had hurt them and he would get rid of everyone.

...the child. Was the child really an evil that had to be erased from existence. Or had he really become a monster like the one that had taken his family away from him.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up and doesn't feel cold. That surprises him because he had thought death would be cold. His eyes need a few minutes to focus on a celling he hasn't seen before. Under his finger is the soft fabric of a warm blanket. He turns his head and sees his mask in a pile of clothes and a chair next to a bed that isn't his own.

"Oh you finally woke up." Sherlock flinches. Someone was close by and he hadn't felt it. The flinching is a bad idea; a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder. "Easy, you were shot, don't move too much." A friendly looking man around thirty comes into his field of vision,with sandy blond hair and his own story of suffering. Sherlock's eyes can't focus properly but he can read enough to be sure this man is not a threat.

Ex-army doctor, loss of license, treating the homeless, a healer and protector. He stays alert but relaxes a bit to release the hurting muscles in his shoulder again.

"That's better, you should drink something." The man offers Sherlock a glass of water and takes it back as Sherlock finishes it. "I was worried your wound would get infected after your swim in the Thames. I'm John by the way. John Watson." The man's smile is honest, but can he be trusted?

"Where am I?" Sherlock asks without offering a name.

"I found you on my way back from a patient and I took you to my home for treatment. Don't worry, this house is a shelter for everyone who needs it. It belongs to Mrs. Hudson; she will be upstairs soon; she offered to cook something special to get you back on your feet again." The doctor comes closer again. "I have to change the wrapping again." And to his surprise Sherlock lets it happen. He was never happy about being touched, much less from a stranger, but this man feels exceptional. "Looks good. You should sleep a bit more. I have to see a few of my patient. Mrs. Hudson will he here soon with your food. And if you feel unwell call, she will help you." John takes his coat and hat to leave.

"Why are you helping me?" Sherlock has to ask. He has forgotten what caring for others and kindness means.

"Because you needed it and I could give it. See you later." Sherlock is alone and lets his head fall back in the pillow. The answer isn't helping and his eyes are tired again, not helping either; sleeping sounds good for a change.

* * *

The next time he wakes is as the door to the flat is opened by a nice looking old lady. That has to be Mrs. Hudson but Sherlock is too tired to move and his whole body is hurting. He just watches her as she walks into the flat trying to be quiet before she sees that he is already awake. "Oh sorry dear, did I wake you?" He shakes his head; for some reason he doesn't want her to feel bad. "Are you in pain? John left me instructions for the medication so I can give you something if you need it." Again Sherlock shakes his head. He doesn't want medication, he needs an open mind and not some drug blown fuzzy thinking. She comes over to him and lays her hand on his forehead. "No fever, you are very lucky young man. If John hadn't been out there who knows when you would have been found."

She continues her chatting as she prepares something that looks like a soup. "I will help you up so you can eat a bit. You need your strength and the fluids. You lost lots of blood." The old woman is amazing. He has never met anyone like her. Nice, gentle, caring but definitively strong willed.

"Doesn't it bother you that you have someone in your house you know nothing about, with a gunshot wound who could be some kind of …monster?" Yes, he is a monster and there is no other way to describe it.

"Are you a monster that will hurt me, John or someone else that gets shelter under my roof?" She asks without breaking eye contact.

Sherlock takes his time to answer. He should kill all of them who have seen his face and disappear. That was the way they taught him but could he really do this? After they had helped him, saved his life. The picture of the child appears again in his mind and suddenly he feels sick. No, he would not hurt them, never. "No, I´m not that kind of monster. At least I don't want to be one like that anymore"

She seems to accept the answer and serves him some delicious looking soup. Sherlock hadn't noticed that he was hungry and digs into the food as if he hasn't eaten in days. That's probably right, he can't remember the last time he had food or how long he has been here.

"So I guess feeding you up won't be a problem." Sherlock stops inhaling food and looks at her. "Oh don't stop I'm happy you're eating. You thin as a stick. We have to change that." She winks at him and returns to the kitchen, preparing another bowel. "By the way, you should cover yourself up a bit."

Sherlock's hand shoots to the blanket and covers his private parts. His cheeks get a red shade and the laughter from the kitchen sounds more amused then embarrassed. "There is fresh underwear and pajamas in the chair. Mind your shoulder."

Sherlock picks up his mask and places it in the bed before he dresses himself. It hurts but not as much as it could. Now more awake Sherlock can concentrate and ignore the pain better. Only the buttons are a challenge.

John chooses this moment to come back home. "I see you made yourself presentable for Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock blushes more. "Let me help with this, can be a bit tricky. I speak from experience." Sherlock believes him; he could read the old injuries from the movement in his left shoulder. John finishes buttoning his pajama top.

"John, I have sup for you too. I will leave you two alone now." Mrs. Hudson calls from the kitchen.

"Lucky me, getting food served right after coming home." John finishes his work on his patient and gets his dinner from the kitchen. Sherlock continues his own meal, slower this time.

"I see you have met Mrs. Hudson and you are still here. You have passed her test."

"What test?" Sherlock is confused.

"She is not the harmless looking lady you see at first sight. She can stand down whole armies without getting hit by hard artillery." Sherlock swallows; the test had to be the monster question. "Don't worry, she likes you, I can see that. She always likes the young ones the most, mother hens them."

Sherlock doesn't like this kind of comment. "I'm not a child. I have worked like any adult for years." John doesn't doubt it but he had hoped for something different.

"How old are you?" Let's see how far he is from the real number with his estimation.

"Sixteen." Sherlock sees no danger in telling John that now.

"Worse than I thought." John whispers but Sherlock is busy with the next of his problems. Will they be in danger because of him? They know nearly nothing about him. His age, they found him at the Thames and the contents of his clothes ... His weapons. "Where are my old clothes?"

A sad look appears on Johns face. "We had to cut them off so I could treat your injuries. Before you ask, the stuff you had with you is safe but Mrs. Hudson has rules. No one is allowed to have weapons in here. She took my service weapon." A house full of unarmed people. If someone would come looking for him they would all die.

He needs to get away from this place before these friendly people have to suffer because of him. What when the organization were already on the way. His heart hasn't felt like this in years. It is beating loud and fast.

"How long have I slept, and did someone see you as you brought me to this house?" John feels his patient´s panic. Sherlock is angry with himself and his brain for being slow due to his condition.

"No one will come looking for you, don't worry. I had chosen a way without people and cameras, and to your other question, a day and a night." John is calm; it looks like he knows what he is talking about. Most likely he does.

"You can stay as long as you want. This is a safe place, for you, me and everyone who needs a place." Sherlock nods. He feels tired again. John takes the food away. "Go to sleep."

"My name is Sherlock. Don't tell anyone." John smiles; he is surprised the boy gave out his name that easy, as is Sherlock himself, but he trusts this man and it is only fair to repay him. He is risking their lives just by being here.

"Sleep well Sherlock." And he does.


	7. Last present for his brother

**Chapter 7: Last present for his brother**

With every day, Sherlock's injuries get better. The feared infection doesn't happen and John is glad that everything is healing smoothly. Most days Sherlock spends alone in the flat only interrupted by Mrs. Hudson with food or John with a patient. Speaking about the doctor, he gets up early and goes out most days at different times. Emergency calls at night aren't rare.

Sherlock starts to relax and rest, something he hasn't done in years, but not once does he leave the flat. As the restlessness begins, Sherlock starts to read every book in the flat. After finishing these, Mrs. Hudson and John bring him books from the library on topics he might be interested in.

After three weeks John has enough. "Sherlock why don't you go out for a walk, just around the corner. You can't stay in here for the rest of your life." That is definitively the wrong thing to say. Angry about the doctor´s comments Sherlock hide the remaining day at Mrs. Hudson's flat and tastes her bakery while their landlady bakes goods for them. She doesn't complaint about entertaining him and John doesn't comment on it in the evening when Sherlock comes back upstairs to sleep.

* * *

Sherlock finally has time to think about his future or the possibility of one. He never had his own choice, not since he entered BEC at the age of five. His organization is hopefully thinking of him as dead but without a body they will search for him as a fugitive. He didn't report back. He should have the second after he woke but he couldn't. Mrs. Hudson's question and the picture of the child stopped him even thinking about the possibility of returning to his work. The only thing that bothers him is Mycroft. His brother did everything to give him the less cruel jobs but rarely had a say in it. Now his brother is hoping to find him and he is playing dead.

Sherlock relaxes his head against the cool glass from the window. He would like to go out but someone was looking for him. He puts his mask on and pulls the blanket around his shoulders as he turns his back to the world outside. He can't be found or the people that helped him will pay. They have been kind and caring and didn't ask questions he wasn't comfortable answering.

Sherlock must have nodded off because John's voice and a hand on his shoulder wakes him. "Hey sleepy head why don't you sleep in your bed or the sofa, the floor is not really the most comfortable place to sleep." John's warm smile is the best thing in the world. It reminds him of home, a long time ago. He would never tell him that but this smile is the reason Sherlock stayed. For someone who was surrounded by lies this honest smile is like the sun after a storm.

"I have slept in worse conditions." True and John's sad eyes tell him his words are believed.

"Can you try to explain why you don't want to go out? Maybe I can do something to make you feel safe outside the flat. It is really not good to stay inside all the time." Sherlock stays quiet. "You could accompany me on my tour. I need an assistant."

The offer is appealing; Sherlock could spend more time with John and he could try to walk undetected through the city, out of the flat and in fresh air. But it is not right. "I can't, it's too dangerous. Believe me when the people who are looking for me find me you are all in danger." Sherlock pulls his knees closer and pulls the mask down; he hides under it when he feels weak. Weakness is the first point someone will attack when it is shown.

John pulls the mask from his face again. "Then we will walk away from the main road and cameras, and hide you a bit under someclothes."

"Why would you risk it for someone like me?" One of his darker moods.

"I need an assistant and you are perfect for the job. You read every medical book you could get your hands on, are physical fit and again, I like your company. My patients will also like you. There is nothing I would risk for you."

"You should help the man, he saved your life." Mrs. Hudson stands at the door. "Wear this. And John you have another emergency." Sherlock takes the offered clothes, jeans and a dark hoody and changes into them after a look from their landlady. You just have to do what she asks you to do. John leads a young woman inside, she is one of the regulars, her name is Hetty, she lives together with two other women, one is pregnant and doesn't want to go to a hospital. It appears the baby is coming.

John has his coat and bag. Mrs. Hudson gives Sherlock another bag, with fresh towels, water and a phone for emergencies. Prepared and ready Sherlock follows John outside in the street for the first time in over a month. They are led by Hetty, and Sherlock hides his hair under the hood and a pair of sunglasses cover his eyes.

This is the first of many emergency calls the two men do together. After a while Sherlock also assists John on his daily rounds. Helping people was so much better then killing them.

* * *

 _One year later_

John and Sherlock enter the back alley after very successful rounds. "Glad the medication finally kicked in." Sherlock says.

"Yes, if not we would have had to bring him to a hospital. But Jessy would prefer to die before he enters one of them."

"It's a miracle he lets us treat him. You are one of the evil kind, doctor." Joking, Sherlock turns back ahead as he hears it. The sound of the metal top of an umbrella on the pathway; he would recognize that sound anywhere. Sherlock freezes, John notices it and stops too before turning back. His partner's eyes are filled with fear; fear he hasn't seen in months.

John looks behind Sherlock and sees that the alleys entry is blocked with a black car, and a young man with an umbrella is standing there, waiting.

John wants to question the man and steps past Sherlock but he is stopped. "Don't." What John hears was more `don't leave me` and `danger`.

John takes the hand that was holding him and holds it tight. That gives Sherlock the courage to turn around and face the stranger.

"Hello Mycroft." Sherlock's voice sounds hollow even to his own ears.

"Little brother." The stranger, Sherlock's brother Mycroft apparently nods but doesn't show any other sign of feelings. The calmness that Sherlock pretends to have disappears.

"Please, don't hurt them. They did nothing wrong. They helped me, please don't take them away." Sherlock has no illusion that his brother knows everything about John, Mrs. Hudson and her shelter. But what he finds in Mycroft's eyes makes no sense. There was hesitation that change to confidence.

"Sherlock I will not take then. I will give you what you need, a death." Understanding blooms in Sherlock while John gets the wrong impression and stands in front of him.

"You won't get a hand on him." A smile appears on Mycroft's face, which makes John even more angry.

"I will leave him in your capable hands Dr. Watson. I do hope this protectiveness will never go away." Confused about the words of the other man; it takes Sherlock to explain it.

"John he will make sure no one will ever come to look for me; he will kill the person who I was so I can stay." And suddenly Sherlock understands the hesitation; when Sherlock is dead he will never see his brother again.

"Go to him." Sherlock stares at his brother as John finally gets the whole picture. "Say good bye."

And Sherlock walks over to the only family that was left in his life. "Thank you for letting me go."

"Thank you for being alive and I'm sorry they took everything from us." Mycroft hugs his brother; the last time they did that was when Uncle Rudy brought Sherlock out of the house. "Uncle Rudy told me to hold you so you will know that you are loved."

And Sherlock feels it. All the Love his brother has for him. His heart opens completely and over ten years of unshed tears finally find their way out.

John takes Sherlock into his arms as Mycroft lets go of him. They had to separate. But with the knowledge that both are well and alive they can finally live, one in the shadow the other in the light in the same city they call their home.


End file.
